I wait expectantly for your
your thoughts to wing theiir of adventure
to the flicker of my heart.
My own disassembles like folds of
Silken threads webbed in purple indigo. where our names are webbed
Our words are rare as rice paper origami of rice paper
Sewn with slivers of sun drenched feathers that echo
Out to sea and back in again until the end for we are more than an
epoch of bones but the setting of a summer sunset
in your colors.
My blood is this crimson rushing through your veins when we make love
As though we are the only lovers the breathing air where we make love
as though we are the only lovers,
as gentle or fierce as the press of your
thighs on mine.